Erotic by Nature is a collection of visual and written erotica of
unprecedented artistic quality and imagination, a celebration of the
potential sex holds for deep joy, wonder, intimacy, and self-awareness.
Directed to women and men of all ages and life styles, Erotic by Nature
demonstrates that quality erotic photography, writing, and art can be
intensely passionate and provocative without being pornographic -- without
being stale or inflated, without manipulating sexual frustrations and fears,
without depicting sex as an arena of male control and female submission. It
is an affirmation of the importance, complexity, and subtlety of sexual
feeling, a new genre of erotic imagery and writing that invites us to move
beyond both pornography and sexual prohibition to welcome and explore the
best of our erotic selves. Drawing from the work of 36 women and 25 men,
aged 30 to 73, Erotic by Nature presents a wide range of erotic perspectives
that take the reader from the sexual to the sexual, from the familiar to the
novel, from the conventional to the daring, from lighthearted play to the
deepest aspects of personal identity and interpersonal connection:

David Steinberg has been active in feminist and men’s movements for the past
16 years, leading workshops on men's roles, fathering, and male sexuality.
His books include The Erotic Impulse: Honoring the Sensual Self;
Fatherjournal: Five Years of Awakening to Fatherhood; Beneath This Calm
Exterior; Welcome, Brothers; If I Knew the Way; Yellow Brick Road; and Doing
Your Own School. His writing has appeared in Playboy, Salon, Boston Phoenix,
LA Weekly, Salon, Notorious, San Jose Metro, Cupido, The Sun, Libido, The
Realist, Gauntlet, and Issues in Radical Therapy. He lives in Santa Cruz,
California.

If you would like to receive Comes Naturally columns and other writing by
David Steinberg regularly via email, send your name and email address to
David at eronat@aol.com. There is no cost and your name and email address
will remain strictly confidential.

I have always wanted an alternative to pornography -- something strong and
sexy, but with a completely different feel: something closer to what
interested me about sex, something that touched the heart of sexual
experience with aliveness, perception, subtlety, and depth.

As a person interested in expanding the various levels of erotic experience
in my life, I have been hungry for the support and encouragement of a rich
and imaginative erotic culture -- the cultural context taken for granted by
people interested in classical music, painting, architecture, baseball, or
fine wines: stories to read, images to enjoy, a wide variety of public
perspectives to stretch the imagination, explore nuance, stimulate movement
in new directions.

I have wanted to feel a connection with other people fascinated with the
erotic world -- to have access to a full range of their thoughts, feelings,
and reflections. And so I have looked for erotic material of real quality --
material that acknowledged the power, complexity, and mystery of the
phenomenon we call sex, rather than reducing it to the silly clichés and
grand exaggerations of locker-room chatter.

Unfortunately, whenever I have tried to find such resources, I have
consistently been disappointed. In truth, for all its preoccupation with
sex, our culture still adamantly refuses to address sexual eros with the
simple wonder, open curiosity, and profound respect it deserves. And so we
have no complex, imaginative, affirmative culture -- written or visual --
that is deliberately, honestly, and sexually erotic.

What we have instead is the consequence of relegating creation of sexually
explicit erotic material to a rebellious and often outlawed subculture -- the
consequence of driving sexual fascination underground. We have material that
trivializes not only women and men, but also sex itself -- material that
presents a narrow range of stylized stories and images, as if these were all
that sexual material, sexual fantasy, or noteworthy sexual experience could
possibly include. We have material that is produced with surprising disdain
for its audience -- an audience presumed to be entirely male, lonely,
sexually desperate, and oblivious to the interplay of sex, intimacy, and
emotional complexity. We have material that draws its power primarily from
our sexual frustrations and fears, emphasizing the supposedly unresolvable
contradictions between who we know we are and who we think we should be, as
sexual beings. We have material that teaches men to be in sexual control of
both themselves and their partners, and that teaches women both to
subordinate their desires to those of others and to manipulate their partners
through sexual temptation and denial. We have material that implies we must
resemble glamorous superstars, male and female, in order to be sexually
desirable. We have material that suggests that sexually exciting people are
never vulnerable, afraid, confused, or uncertain -- indeed are rarely so much
as playful or silly. We have material that encourages us to separate sexual
desire from tenderness and affection, and almost completely ignores the
subtleties of surrender, mystery, and wonder. We have pornography.

This book is one person’s response to commercial pornography’s domination of
the world of sexual material -- to the absence of high-quality, sexually
erotic literature, art, or photography.

I have tried to locate quality erotica, both in the pornographic marketplace
and in the world of "legitimate" art. I have looked for pornography that was
"better than most" -- more flexible in its vision of sexually attractive men
and women; more sophisticated, more varied, or at least more honest in its
concept of sex itself. There is pornography that is more tastefully
produced, less pretentious, less lurid or obsessed with glamor, friendlier,
warmer than the rest. But even the "best" of the pornographic spectrum
barely touches the core of what I know sex to be about, hardly enough to
justify sorting through oceans of predominantly mediocre, and often
emotionally offensive, material.

When one gives up on pornography and turns to legitimate media -- art
photography, literature, collections of short stories and poetry -- one
immediately confronts the sex-phobic attitudes that permeate our
social/sexual landscape. One repeatedly feels an artist or writer proceeding
on tiptoe: cautiously approaching (and ultimately yielding to) the rigid,
unspoken boundaries of "good taste" -- the limitations of what is considered
acceptable sexual focus or impact. We are all familiar with the stories and
poems that move to edge of engaging our specifically sexual energies only to
stop short, as if to deny or minimize the writer’s sexual intent -- the
works where sexual messages appear only peripherally, as sidelights to more
"respectable" concerns. If there is a directly sexual portrayal, the
attitude is usually titillating, simplified, and superficial. Thus we are
taught that the intricacies and complexities of sexual feeling may intrigue
us, but do not deserve our more careful and respectful attention.

In the worlds of respected painting, drawing, sculpture, and art photography,
one finds the same ubiquitous implicit prohibitions. Images with hints of
erotic feeling may be honored, but those that focus on sexual eros directly
-- that allow sexual feelings to ripen and become the unapologetic focus of
the work -- are rarely published or shown in respected galleries. Apparently
artists and photographers my invoke the immense power of the erotic, but only
obliquely, and only if they disclaim intending to stimulate or encourage
sexual feeling in the viewer.

Why does our culture discourage truly artistic work that explores the
sexual/erotic realm without reservation or apology, artwork that addresses
sex with enthusiasm, celebration, and joyous appreciation? Among the
thousands of books that are published every year, why are there so few
stories, photographs, and drawings that express explicitly erotic and sexual
sentiments with respect for their importance, richness, and power? In these
times especially, when our social fabric is stretched taut by the turmoil of
rapidly changing sexual values and practices, it is essential that we
encourage creative exploration of sexual subtleties and complexities as an
antidote to the simplistic platitudes of both pornography and puritan
anti-sex. And yet the more complex, more difficult-to-resolve aspects of sex
and eros -- the aspects that I, for one, find most important, challenging,
and meaningful -- are precisely those that are systematically neglected and
ignored by pornography and mainstream media alike.

Five years ago, I began to explore these issues serious and directly. I
found myself creating opportunities to discuss my thoughts and feelings on
pornography and quality erotica with a wide variety of people: women and
men, friends and strangers. I had dozens of earnest talks, with individuals
and with people in small groups. I traveled to different parts of the
country, conducting workshops on "Pornography, Erotica, and Sexual Fantasy,"
in order to hear other people’s perspectives, and to ask what people would
really want if they had viable choices about the erotic material available to
them.

I found there were many people, women as well as men, who were interested in
quality erotica, but who knew that no such material was generally available.
Among men I was interested to find a great deal of embarrassment about the
sexual themes and perspectives familiar to commercial pornography. I
discovered that many, perhaps most, men purchase pornography not for the
particular images of women or sex found there, but because they enjoy the
unapologetic sexual focus unique to that world. Among women I found much
theoretical interest in erotic images and stories, especially those that
might reflect women’s real desires and sexual perspectives, but also a deep
disaffection with the caricatured material currently available, whether in
Playgirl or in male-oriented magazines and films.

Among artists and writers I likewise found more than a few people -- some
widely known, others relatively obscure -- who were interested in creating
more directly erotic or sexual work, but who avoided these themes (at least
publicly) for fear of being ridiculed or discounted. These people were
painfully aware of the absence of appropriate networks through which to
publish or display work that would be considered too sexual by mainstream
publishers or galleries, and too subtle, complex, or women-oriented by
publishers of pornography. What was needed, it seemed, was a way for the
artists and their prospective audiences to discover one another. And the
audacious though emerged that if no one else was willing or interested,
perhaps I should undertake this project myself.

I began to meet with friends who shared my interest in these issues, and
whose political and aesthetic perspectives were close to my own. We talked
at length, trying to get a sense of what "alternative erotica" might include.
This was surprisingly difficult. We found it easy to specify what we didn't
like about pornography, but defining what we would like was another matter.
The entire concept of wholesome, sexy erotica was new and strangely
unsettling. We found ourselves embarrassingly limited in our erotic
imaginations. After several months, still having only the vaguest sense of
what this collection might become, I decided to begin soliciting material
anyway. I hoped that as I reviewed submissions, a clearer sense of what I
was looking for would emerge.

In fact this is precisely what happened, although the process was much slower
and more frustrating than I expected. The initial submissions were uniformly
discouraging. I waded through literally hundreds of stories, poems and
drawings, almost all of which I found to be insufficiently erotic, hopelessly
clichéd, or dominated by sexual points of view remarkably close to those of
the pornographic mainstream. Clearly my friends and I were not the only
people with stunted erotic imaginations! Gradually, however, I also found --
more often from personal acquaintances than from mass solicitations -- work
that reached deep inside me in new ways -- ways that felt positive, original,
strongly erotic, and richly imaginative. From these I began to distill some
criteria that I could offer as guidelines to potential contributors.

I knew early on, for example, that I wanted this book to address an audience
of women as well as men -- an audience I took to be sexually healthy, active,
curious, and open-minded. This meant that the book would represent and
respect women's erotic desires and perspectives as much as it did men's. I
knew, too, that I wanted work that was truly celebratory of sex: that saw
sex and sexual desire as beautiful, joyous, powerful, and life-affirming --
even awesome and profound -- rather than as lewd, titillating, petty, or
demeaning.

I made a point of soliciting material that acknowledged sexual diversity --
emphasizing a broad spectrum of sexual attitudes, interests, and practices
rather than trying to reduce "correct" sex to a few familiar perspectives.
And I wanted very much for the material in the book to help us all appreciate
who we really are as erotic beings (us, not the Beautiful People), and to
encourage us to trust the wisdom and power of our core erotic feelings,
sensitivities, and desires.

I discovered that the material I liked best felt familiar even as it was new,
striking responsive chords from personal experience even as it might offer
new erotic perspectives. I found, too, that the work that most affected me
often addressed some of the more unsettling, even frightening, aspects of
sexuality -- the unpredictability, loss of control, fear of intimacy, and
supreme vulnerability that are such important parts of sexual experience.

Most broadly, I chose a general tone for the book that was celebratory,
encouraging, and uplifting -- an affirmation of the incredible potential sex
has to bring us deep joy, wonder, intimacy, growth, and wisdom when it is
approached with honesty, courage, and humility.

The process of defining these goals and finding the material to fulfill them
has taken over five years and has taught me more than I ever would have
imagined, both about myself and about the sexual culture we all live and
breathe. It has been a slow and frighteningly vulnerable process. To go
public with one's sexual values and beliefs, to explicate a perspective on
sexual eros that reaches below the surface and flies in the face of our
culture's dominant sexual mythology, is to stand painfully naked in an
unknown and potentially hostile world.

The most important process, initially, was to demonstrate that this
collection of erotic material would be different from what had been published
before -- different from pornography. One by one I met with potential
contributors and pledged to them that I would neither trivialize,
sensationalize, nor dilute the erotic power of their work. "I intend this to
be a superior quality publication," I stated in my solicitation flyer, "both
in content and in form. The format of the book will in itself be a statement
of respect for the beauty of sex."

From the beginning, I have been gratified by the positive and enthusiastic
response I have had from contributors, both famous and less widely known. I
have had neither public reputation nor generous finances to recommend me.
Yet, almost unanimously, artists, photographers, and writers have been so
delighted at the idea of a truly erotic and artistic collection that they
have responded with overwhelming support and encouragement. People who began
by saying they had "nothing really erotic" to offer ended up showing me work
they never thought could be published appropriately. Some contributors took
this book as an opportunity to create new work, and found that the existence
of a respectful, artistic context enabled them to move into sexual or erotic
work more seriously than they had done before. Often they would recommend me
to another artist who was also "doing interesting work." And so, around the
seed of this book, a loose network of talented and responsible erotic artists
and writers has grown.

What has developed from the contributions of these 36 women and 25 men from
California to New England, some in their early 30's, some in their 60's and
70's (averaging about 45), is a collective sexual/erotic perspective that is
radically different from that of pornography yet no less evocative,
stimulating, or engaging. Indeed, I find these works more powerful than
pornography because they engage our erotic and sexual energies more fully and
deeply, touch us more closely, more honestly, and at so many different
levels. Where pornography would condense our sense of the erotic to a few
stylized, glamorous images, this collection encourages is to expand our
erotic sensibilities to include everything from light-hearted play to
confronting the deepest aspects of personal identity and interpersonal
communication. And where pornography is primarily a means of elaborating
masturbatory fantasy, this book's main appeal is to different and more
complex desires: the desire to curl up and be intimate with a loved one; the
desire to love and be loved; the desire to express who we really are; the
desire to open more fully to the wonders of life and the world around us; the
desire to become a little more energized, without needing to do anything with
that feeling other than relax and enjoy it.

Because pornography has monopolized the sexual marketplace for so long, it
has become easy to believe that direct and powerful sexual/erotic material is
inherently pornographic. This book demonstrates that it is not. It
demonstrates that erotic work can be sexy, powerful, and provocative without
being stale, without manipulating men's and women's sexual frustrations and
fears, without depicting sex as an arena for men's dominance over women,
without denying the full erotic subjectivity of all human beings.

This book offers an alternative to pornography, one that encourages us all to
be fully erotic, fully sexual beings without alienating ourselves, our
deepest human values, or the people with whom we are most intimately
involved. It represents only the beginning of what is possible when erotic
and sexual themes are addressed ethically and artfully. Much more work of
this sort is possible and needed. Perhaps this book will encourage others to
produce and distribute original material reflecting a wide variety of
sexually erotic aesthetics and points of view. Hopefully there will
eventually be a wide range of positive erotica to help us trust the goodness,
the sanctity, and the wholesome power of this central aspect of who we are;
help us celebrate without apology our opportunities to explore this important
part of being alive; help us to enjoy, rather than fear, the fact that we
are, truly, erotic by nature.

If you would like to receive Comes Naturally columns and other writing by
David Steinberg regularly via email, send your name and email address to
David at eronat@aol.com. There is no cost and your name and email address
will remain strictly confidential.